


Caged Kestrel

by ShadowInEden (EffingEden)



Series: In Her Shadow [3]
Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton
Genre: Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-11-27
Updated: 2010-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-13 10:24:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffingEden/pseuds/ShadowInEden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anita's teenage kid is kidnapped</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was almost dawn, and down in the hollow belly of the Circus of the Damned, everyone was settling down for the day.

The Pard had already curled itself up into a tight tangle of arms, legs and bodies, all touching some part of me in its centre. I know I shouldn’t be here, but I’d had that nightmare again. I couldn’t sleep alone in a bed, not all the way through the night. I woke grumpy and tired in the middle of the night and couldn’t sleep again. That’s what had happened tonight, but if I was really sneaky and really luck, I wouldn’t be found here, surrounded by the warm bodies of the wereleopards until later on this morning. I felt safe with my family around, sharing this intimate embrace of comfort.

A hand moved soothingly through the dark mass of my hair, stroking the curls till my eyes slid shut. A cool tongue cleaned the tear tracks from my pale skin, lingering until I smiled. I snuggled into the chest behind me and drifted to sleep in Micah’s loving grip, his arm curled over my waist, his fingers dancing a lazy pattern on my sensitive stomach. I knew they would fight to the death to keep me safe, but with the monster in my head they could only hold me tight. I wondered what I had done to deserve this loyal devotion.

Then, without warning, my peaceful doze was shattered. The door banged open and the bright overhead light was switched one. I froze; my muscles all taut and ready to spring into action even though I kept my eyes squeezed shut. Maybe, just maybe I wouldn’t have to get out of bed. Maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t the target of the very pissed off intruder.

I felt Micah move, lifting his head to look at the woman fuming in the doorway. “Hello, Anita,” he said. A quiet, despairing moan escaped me, and I tried to bury myself into the pillows. Please, I begged silently, please let me stay…

“What is he doing in bed with you?” Anita raged, her words loaded with a cocktail of hard-to-pinpoint emotions – was that jealousy or spite? Loathing or revulsion? She stormed in, leaving the door open.

“He’s been having bad dreams,” Cherry supplied, trying to calm her Nimir-Ra.

It didn’t work. It never worked.

“So he jumps in with all of you?” She says it like it’s the least believable load of bull she has ever stumbled across. “He’s fourteen, for God’s sake! And you’re still naked!” This is said like it’s the worst crime in the history of the world. It was an old routine. “I’ve told you not to let him, I’ve told you it’s not healthy for a young boy to be surrounded by naked people!” So old I could lip-sync her words. I didn’t want to hear it again. Each time cut me a little deeper than the last.

I disentangled myself with an ease of much practice. Slithering over the silk bedding and falling off the bed in a pile on the deep carpet – I hadn’t had so much practice doing that. I felt all eyes on me. I got my feet under me and stood, facing the Executioner, head held high. I kept my tone and face deadpan as I said, “I’m sorry, Anita.” I walked past the woman that I resembled in almost everything, and headed for the door.

The next thing that came out of the woman behind me was so loud I almost cringed. Almost. “Don’t you call me by my name! I am your mother and will have respect!”

I ignored her, knowing she was just looking for a fight, and I was as good a target as any. Better – I was so easily hurt by her words she usually got a raise, but not tonight. I walked out into the long corridor and closed the door to my mother’s room. As soon as the latch clicked into place I drooped. I couldn’t hear the harsh volume of Anita’s voice and the harsher tone, and sighed with relief at the soundproofing Jean-Claude had installed.

I rubbed my burning eyes and began to walk towards my own room. Anita had insisted on the rooms being separated as much as practical, even though they were soundproof. It was like she couldn’t bare the sight of me. No, wait, scratch the first three words.

My bare feet whispered over the cold stone floor, and the sudden drop in air temperature made me shivered, my thin cotton shorts and tank top not made to keep me warm. Sure, there was heating, but there was still a chill in the air and I’d left my robe in Anita’s room.

A yawn stretched my jaw wide as I passed Jean Claude’s room, and my sleep-fuzzy mind mused what had pissed off Anita so much. She was still wearing her guns, so she must have been out, but she wasn’t covered in blood, so she wasn’t Animating or anything. That left police work or Richard. I wished, not for the first time, that people would tell me what went on.

I really didn’t want to sleep by myself, the thought of another nightmare made my feet hesitate and the skin at the back of my neck prickle. I hated the nightmare. It was always the same one. The Receiving Chamber would still have the fire burning in its massive fireplace. I could sit there and wait for a respectable time for breakfast, and then phone my friends.

I rubbed my palms over my upper arms, changing direction, but I only took three quick steps before another sound met my ears.

Then a door behind me opened. I didn’t think anything of it, until Asher’s soft voice called to me. “ _Mon crécerelle_ , it is too early for you to be awake.”

I turned my head to look at the vampire over my shoulder, taking in he was standing in Jean-Claude’s bedroom doorway, dressed in a robe that left most of his chest open, and had a soft grin on his face. His golden hair spilled over half his face, hiding himself. I didn’t know why he did it, but it looked good. I shrugged once, giving the explanation, “Anita thinks it’s more healthy for me to be locked in nightmares than sleep with the Pard. So I’m going to do neither… a happy middle ground between the two.” I gave him a smile, but it tasted sad and lonely, so I turned from him quickly, my hair fanning out in the fast movement.

I hugged myself and took a dancing step forward, the cold eating through my flesh, but my tired feet stumbled a little, and I sidled to catch my balance, but I only caused myself to fall harder and faster. As I realized this, I hated my human gracelessness. Nathaniel said to call it that. Anita just calls me clumsy. I envied the vampires and weres their ease in their bodies and surroundings.

I threw out a hand to catch myself, and the heel of my palm scraped the bare stone of the wall, and didn’t slow down in the slightest, but strong, warm hands caught me, around my upper arms. “Have more care, _mon crécerelle_ ,” Asher murmured, holding me as I got my feet under me, then for a moment longer.

I moved, turning to face him, and he let his hands drop. “Um, thank-you,” I said with an apologetic tone.

Asher didn’t reply, he just caught my hand and raised it, and I thought for a moment he was going to kiss it or something, like he and Jean-Claude kissed Anita – but he turned it over, looking at my scrape. I felt a strange pang of regret and relief, and his light blue eyes flicked to meet mine, as if he knew what I thought. I tugged my hand, saying, “It was only a scrape.”

He loosened his grip and let me pull free. “ _Oui_ ,” he said softly, still looking at me.

I looked away, and saw Jean-Claude in the doorway. He was watching Asher. His eyes went to me, his expression changing slightly. I looked down and murmured automatically, “Goodnight,” even though it was technically morning.

I turned and walked away. When I nearing a bend in the corridor, I heard Jean-Claude say in a cold voice, “Asher.”

I didn’t hear anymore. I was glad. I was sick of all the arguments that came because of me.

When I got to The Receiving Chamber, I dragged a chair near to the fire and collapsed in it, tucking my legs under me and watching the flames lick and curl. Asher had been acting weird for a while now. I didn’t know what to think, but I knew Jean-Claude didn’t like it. Anita hadn’t noticed, and I hadn’t seen Richard since before it started.

My eyes drifted half shut, and I watched the fire a little longer. I hoped tomorrow Anita wouldn’t be so angry. I hated it when she was.

I didn’t notice I had fallen asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Guttural words whispered out of the darkness. I almost understood what they meant, but couldn’t grasp them. They were beautiful but ugly, warped but elegant, making my heart race. I felt the speaker’s breath across my skin, but I couldn’t see them, it was too dark. I couldn’t move even though nothing held me down. It was the nightmare, again.

I felt the person with my skin, heard them with my ears. It wouldn’t be such a bad nightmare, if I didn’t sense them another way, too – in my head. They were there, like an echo of an echo, almost not there. Cool tendrils tickled my mind, like the dead, but not hungry and yearning like them. This was different. I had never felt anything like it outside of the nightmare.

The words twisted over my skin, and the touch in my mind was soft, but it was terrible, because I couldn’t wake up and couldn’t stop them. Not even when it starts to hurt. Anita said dreams didn’t have pain, but she is wrong. She is wrong about so much.

Suddenly, I had my body again, and I wrenched it forwards, struggling violently, opening my eyes – to see the Receiving Chamber. I was awake. I slumped back in the chair. Had I seen something before I woke up? Maybe. A something. A blur. But it could have been anything or nothing at all.

My scalp prickled uneasily, and I was too awake to fall asleep again, even though I was still tired. So I stretched out my legs, grimacing at the pins and needles, and stood.

Parts of me ached from sleeping in the chair, but it wasn’t bad. I needed something for the headache starting to pound behind my eyes before it got worse.

I headed for the kitchen, putting a hand on the wall. It was dark in the corridors, with many of the torches guttered or dying, and I didn’t have the night vision of a preternatural.

I pushed my free hand through my hair. My fingers got caught half-way, and instead of trying to work the knots free, I pulled my hand from it. My hair only brushed my shoulders, it wasn’t as bad as my mother’s and Micah’s hair – which went to their lower backs.

I opened the kitchen door, starting to shiver again. There was no one inside, though the light had been left on. It made me squint, and my headache flared. Where had Nathaniel put my aspirin?

I looked for them in the few draws and cupboards in the small but efficient room, the rattles and bangs I made sounding loud in the quiet. It was very quiet, the only sound other than me was the faint hiss of gas feeding the lamps. It often was quiet, down in the belly. Unless, of course, if Anita was awake. It must be early, still.

I didn’t want to be alone. The nightmare still clung to me, like wisps of smoke. I needed to banish it. Maybe a shower. Maybe… I sighed and rubbed my temples. I couldn’t go to another person’s bed again, so soon after Anita’s outburst. She’d pop a vein.

I gave up my hunt for the painkillers, and went back into the corridor, headed to my room. I’d ask Nate when he got up. He always knew where everything was.

By the time I got to my room, my skin was pure gooseflesh and I was wishing I had stayed by the fireside. At least, then, I’d be warm. I flicked on the light switch – the bedrooms lit but electricity, like the Receiving Chamber, not gas – and nudged my door shut.

My bed was as large as the Pard’s, even though it had only even held one person – me, and the sheets were a tangled mess as I had left them late last night. I went to my chest-of-draws and pulled out underwear, pants and shirt – all silk. They were not my clothes – they were either burnt or drenched and either way ruined, still at home. I silently cursed the bastard who had started the fire, and not for the first time.

For a second, burning carpet filled my nose, but it was gone again, sinking back into memories. I shook my head – no, I couldn’t think of home, not this soon after a nightmare. I took the clothes into the bathroom and started the shower going, watching the water fall for a moment before dropping the clothes out of harms way and starting to strip.

The shower worked, washing the chill from my skin along with the lingering dream. I felt better when I stepped out, refreshed and… real. The headache had even calmed down a little. I grabbed a towel and went to the mirror, wiping an oval in the misted glass. I scrutinised myself, tilting my head one way, then another, fingers touching my cheekbones and jaw. My eyes lingered on a scar on my forehead before going to my features, trying to see if I had Jean-Claude’s chin, or Richard’s nose, or Micah’s shoulders. Nothing. I couldn’t see anyone but Anita. Why did I have to be her clone?

I wrote in the mist, ‘Nothing can come of nothing,’ and dried off, dressing quickly as the warmth started to leave me. Barefoot still I wandered out into my bedroom, picking up Jason’s borrowed Gameboy from the bedside, and headed back to the kitchen to find breakfast.


	3. Chapter 3

I was leaning on the cool marble counter, waiting for the coffee to percolate while killing hoards of goblins when I heard it. Distant and unnatural, making me stiffen and drew my eyes to the door. “Well, what have the police said?” It was too early, wasn’t it? I looked at the elegant clock on the opposite wall – nine fifteen. Way too early. Damnit, who had woken Anita up?

My eyes went to the cafetière – it was probably the scent that was drawing her here. I switched off my game and put it on the counter behind me, not wanting to give her a reason to get angry at me. Not that she needed one. “That can’t be right. Unless you –"

She came in, jerking to a stop when she saw me, rocking back on her heels and reaching for her absent gun all in one moment. Then she blinked, and fisted her hand before dropping it to her side. Her glare told me it was my fault she had almost blown my face off. Great, she was annoyed already.

The voice buzzed, insect like, and Anita replied, “No, ‘Quill spooked me. What? He’s up.” She sat in one of the chairs, propping herself up with an elbow. The low voice buzzed again, and she looked annoyed suddenly. “No, I’m talking to you. Richard, this isn’t the time. Look, I’m coming over.” She moved to stand again, but the voice – Richard’s – made her stop, and she sat again, frowning. “All right, then. But don’t think I’m bringing him along.” Her eyes had flicked to me – they were talking about me, then.

I didn’t want to know. I turned and pressed the plunger of the cafetière slowly, then took another mug from the rack. I poured the coffee into both mugs, then added cream to mine. “I’ve got an appointment at three. Tonight? Just three raising. You know it’s slow this time of year.” Coffee in hand, I took it to the table, sliding it in front of her as a peace offering. She breathed in the scent and sighed, curving her hand around its warmth. She met my eyes, her lip hitching in a small smile and a mouthed ‘Thank-you.’

I smiled back, and went beck to the counter and my own mug, sipping it and watching my mother. Her voice was hestiant, vulnerable, as she said, “You could come here. There are enough rooms, and you could see ‘Quill.” She bit her lip, hope and worry on her face – but then her face closed, emotions hidden at the next distorted murmur from Richard. “I’m not using him to- Look, you’re the one who said you didn’t want to see him. It’s your choice, Richard. Yours, not mine. I won’t be manipulated into what your asking.” She fell into silence and Richard spoke after a quiet moment. He sounded tired. Anita relaxed, and murmured, “…Yeah. I love you too. See you later.” She hung up and put the phone on the table with a sigh.

The silence was very empty after the half-heard coversation, and I didn’t want to break it, unsure of what to say. I did try to avoid speaking to my mother, but when she’s the only other person in the room, it’s difficult. But she seemed happy enough to nurse her coffee and let the silence stay.

I wondered what had happened to drive Anita out of bed, dressed only in a silk robe. She didn’t shiver though, as if the cold didn’t touch her. It mush have been important for Richard to call this early. That first half of the conversation – police? And Anita offering to go over. It was something bad, but not terriable. Not unless Richard had played it down.

The second half wasn’t too difficult to guess. Something Richard had demanded hadn’t gone over well with Anita, and at her refusal, he refused to see me. It was difficult to work out exactly what had been said as no one would talk about it with me, but I guessed it had something to do with my father.

My headache went from a throbbing to a clawing pain on the underside of my skull, making me feel sick. I put down the coffee, and asked softly, “Have you seen my asprin?”

Anita looked slightly surprised, turning her eyes to look at my face. “Why? What’s wrong now?”

What’s wrong now – as if all I ever do is wrong. I swallowed, keeping myself from snapping, and replied, “I’ve just got a headache. Nothing else.”

Anita grunted, and sipped her coffee, staring at me over the rim. “You take too much of that stuff. You’ll get addicted to it, like that doctor on T.V.”

She hadn’t answered my question. She either knew where it was and didn’t want me to have it or was as clueless as me. “It’s asprin, you can’t get addicted to asprin.” I was starting to sound angry, my words hissing from between my lips as I tried to keep in my annoyance.

“I can’t, but you can. You have to be careful about what you do to your body.”

She looked a little haunted when she said that – as if she recalled I was a frail mortal and she was an everlasting vampire servant. Great. “The doctor prescribed them. They’ll do me more good than harm. Do you know where they are?”

“No, I don’t know, ‘Quill. You’ll have to make do without,” she snapped loudly. My breath left me in a snort of exasperation. Her eyes narrowed, and she snarled, “Why do you expect me to know every little thing? I have enough going on at the moment without you digging at me, too.”

I looked at her, wondering if one of those ‘little things’ was which of her harem had sired me. I doubted she knew. “Forget it, then,” I snapped back, pushing off the counter to leave.

She didn’t stop me, and didn’t give a parting shot. It must be early for her not to give one. I was halfway back to my room when I remebered the Gameboy, left on the counter. I growled in annoyance, but didn’t go back for it. My cell was in my room, I’d text my friends. I hadn’t seen them for a week, and I was sure I’d get cabin fever if I stayed in the Circus for another day. Especially with Anita in a temper. Maybe fresh air would calm my headache.


	4. Chapter 4

I was in the bathroom, letting my temple rest on the cool glass of the mirror, waiting for a text back. My headache had chosen an eye to beat against steadily, and I knew it would take hours to ease now.

There was a light knock on my door. There was no lock on it, but no one had walked in without me opening the door for them. It was a nice change from Anita’s barging.

I took a deep breath, the mirror fogging slightly and showing me a handful of letters from my idle message an hour before. I straightened and hesitated, looking through into the bedroom. I couldn’t see the main door, and I didn’t know who waited outside, but dread slid through me with icy fingers. The migraine pulsed faster as my heart picked up.

Calm, calm, calm. If there were anything wrong they would come in. I moved out of the bathroom and alongside the bed, repeating it over and over. When my hand was on the handle, the migraine clawed at my scull. I opened the door.

Nathaniel stood in the middle of the corridor, hands low and palms facing me, his head tilted to the side so he could look up at me even though he were taller. I was surprised for a moment – the leopards didn’t usually rise before noon – but then Anita would have woken them when she got out of bed. I let a tense breath go, and leaned against the doorframe. “Hey.”

Nathaniel looked at me with his strange lilac eyes, worried. It was an expression he wore a lot when he looked at me. “How are you doing today, ‘Quill?”

I raised my eyebrows a little at the question. “Fine, Nate. How are you?” He was treating me like he’d treat Anita when she was about to have a tantrum. I couldn’t say I appreciated it.

He smiled a little, sadly. “Fine,” he echoed. “Do you want some breakfast?”

I was tempted. Nathaniel made the best breakfasts. I shook my head, though, knowing Anita would still be in the kitchen. “I’m going out soon. Do you know where my aspirin is?”

He blinked, looking nonplussed for a moment, then looked down the corridor. “It’s in Anita’s room. I haven’t unpacked it yet. I’ll get if for you.”

“Thank-you,” I murmured in relief.

I started to move back into my room, but Nathaniel turned back to me, the worried look on his face again. “You have a headache. You had more nightmares after you left us.”

He was good at deducting. I sighed, looking down. “Yeah.” I dropped my gaze on purpose because I knew Nathaniel didn’t like it, hoping he’d leave it alone.

It didn’t work. Nathaniel moved closer, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder. “We can go to the doctor again, and see if we can get something stronger. Maybe a sleeping pill…”

I pulled away from him, backing into my room. “No. The aspirin is enough…” It was a lie, and Nathaniel’s expression told me he’d caught it, but I went on anyway. “…and what would have happened if I had a sleeping pill that night?”

Nathaniel let out a breath, his eyes flicking over my face as he thought. “You don’t have nightmares when you sleep with us. I knew that last night. I’m sorry for not asking Anita to let you stay…”

He looked like he meant it. I shrugged my shoulders. “She was right. I shouldn’t jump in bed with you each time I feel like it.” I stopped, hearing what I had said. My mouth twisted as I struggled not to grin in embarrassment. “Um…”

Nathaniel smiled slowly, and shook his head. His grin faded as he said seriously, “Its nothing bad, ‘Quill. You shouldn’t… shouldn’t listen to Anita. Not about this, anyway. There is nothing wrong in finding comfort in those who love you.” There was a short quiet – not awkward, just contemplative. He said softly, “I’ll go get your pills.”

I nodded, though he didn’t see. He was already walking down the corridor.

I closed my door, leaning against it and shutting my eyes. I didn’t have a chance to rest long, though – my cell vibrated, making me jump in surprise. I groaned softly as I pulled it out of my pocket, half hoping it would say the sender couldn’t make it.

I read the message quickly, frowning at the numbers replacing letters then snapped it shut. Half an hour. Where had I kicked my shoes?

I was just tugging them on when there was another knock at my door. “Come in,” I called.

Nathaniel entered, carrying a little brown bottle and a glass. The bottle rattled with tablets and the glass was half full of water. I smiled in relief at the sight of the painkillers, and looked up at Nate. “Thanks.”

He smiled back and put the bottle and glass on my bedside table, and asked, “Sure you won’t have some breakfast? Not even a little French toast?”

I shook my head and finished putting on my gym shoes. They didn’t go well with the black silk, but they were more comfortable than the leather boots I found beside the door on the second day I was here. “I’m not hungry.” I crawled over the bed to get to the glass of water and aspirin, opening the plastic bottle easily and shaking out two of the little white pills. I took them quickly and swallowed down some water, grimacing as I felt them go down.

“They’d work quicker if you ate.”

Nathaniel’s tone told me he’d keep pushing at this, in his gentle way, until I gave in or ran away. I withheld another sigh, and looked up at him. “One piece. I have to meet Sasha by the mall in a half hour.”

Nate smiled then, and extended a hand to me. “One piece.”

~~~~~

I looked over the edge of my sunglasses at the large clock on the wall. I had been waiting for Sasha for twenty minutes, lingering in our usual hangout outside the mall. It was busy today, lots of tourists looking and snapping photos with their cell phones – and not just of the architecture. I grimaced as an excited looking couple with Southern accents pointed and exclaimed loudly. They seemed sure I’d be willing to pose for them.

If they came any closer, I was leaving.

“’Quill, man, you look rough!”

I turned with a smile towards the voice, half-shouted across the plaza. Sasha looked as he always did, cool and laid back, his blonde hair falling across his face and his mouth in a twisted smile. I was reminded of Asher by the way half his face was shielded for a moment, the encounter earlier playing back in my mind. I shuddered and pushed it away, making myself grin and say lazily, “Well, I’d like to see how smooth you’d be if you had to live in the Circus.”

He sidled up to me and slung an arm across my shoulder, dropping most of his weight onto me. I was shorter than him by half a head – a perfect alternative for a wall to lean on. “Aw, I think I’d survive. I might even get it on with a few of them vampire chicks. So, how’ve you been? You missed a shit load of school and a hundred assignments. You’re going to have to work like a bitch to catch up.”

I snorted, Sasha’s way of putting things so refreshing after a week with eloquent vampires. “I know, I know. I’ve been fine, just Anita, being paranoid.”

Sasha nodded, as if my reply answered everything. Which, it did. “You back in next week?”

His tone had a hint of hopeful curiosity. I knew he had friends other than me, so he wasn’t lonely. It was good to have someone who wanted me around. “Yeah,” I said with a smile.

“Cool,” he grinned. He glanced at the tourists, still watching me and the grin turned sour. “Let’s go hang in the park – there might be a few more chicks and few less ‘trippers.” He didn’t wait for me to agree, he just started to turn up in the right direction, and half dragged me away.


	5. Chapter 5

The park was predictably full of mothers with squalling children, the occasional househusband and others who should be in school but weren’t. I was cold, but didn’t mention it – what could be done about it? Instead we walked. Spring was suppose to be on its way, but there were little sign of it. The blossom trees were bare and the daffodils hadn’t even sent up their spiky leaves.

There were a few birds, sparrows and maybe some robins, chirping in the trees. A man snapped a picture as we passed. I wondered if we had ruined the shot, so glanced at him, but he was too interested in the little brown birds to notice. Sasha’s started to tell me about his daring venture into the girl’s changing room. We passed a bench, with a gothic girl sitting there. She looked – predictably – depressed.

My headache was waning. I should see the doctor for something stronger than aspirin, but he thought I was attention seeking. It pissed me off to hear him go on – he had Nathaniel half convinced I needed I shrink.

Sasha bounced with remembered glee as he recounted what Debbie and Fiona wore under their cheerleading outfits. My breath nearly caught, envy raising that Sasha had been there and not me. “And I _swear_ , man, that thong was so tight I could see everything,” he extended the word for emphasis, “…well, not everything, that would be gross, but she does have a great pair!” He gestured, hands, cupped over his own chest, showing me how large chested Debbie was.

I snorted. He loved to exaggerate. I was about to ask what had happened when they had found him in the locker, spying through the vent, but my cell buzzed, then chimed tunelessly. I fished it out and flipped it open. “Hello?”

“’Quill, head back.” It was Nathaniel, and he sounded worried. “Something’s happened. Come back as fast as you can, okay?”

“What? Why, what’s wrong?” I stopped walking, concentrating on the wereleopard.

“What’s up?” Sasha mouthed, but I shrugged. Nathaniel spoke quickly. “I can’t tell you now, but Richard’s here. If you’re fast enough, I think you can catch him.”

“Oh. All right, I’m headed back now.” I hung up and put the cell away, looking blankly at Sasha. “I gotta go.”

He looked disappointed, and shrugged. “Sure, whatever, you know. See you on Monday.” He was offended, but I didn’t have time to explain. I didn’t even know the full of it myself.

I ran out of the park, not looking back. Sasha would get over it. On the street, I looked for a cab to take me the rest of the way. There were a few, but none stopped as I hailed them. After a minute of trying, I glanced further up the street, trying to judge how fast I could make it on foot, or if I was better waiting. There was a cab, I saw, parked half on the sidewalk. I trotted closer, hoping the driver was just idling and not waiting for a specific person. I glanced in when I got near, and saw the driver reading the papers. I tapped the glass and he started, looking round at me. He looked annoyed, and I opened the door to speak to him. “Hey, are you busy? I need a lift to the Circus.”

His face shined a little with grease, and his hair was separated and straggly with it. I saw yellowing teeth when he spoke. “Nah, I’m not busy, get in.” He folded the paper and dropped it onto the seat next to him. I closed the door and opened a back one, sliding in. The cab was old, and it smelt a little, but wasn’t too bad.

The man started the car, and I wondered what I was going to say to Richard.

~~~~~

We had been going for about ten minutes in the general direction of the circus. There were quicker routes, but I had disturbed the guy’s break. I could pay him a little more. I still hadn’t thought of anything to say to Richard.

The cab started to move a little faster as it eased from the bulk of the traffic around the city centre, heading towards the warehouses further out. It wasn’t a road I recognised, but I didn’t worry – the roads all connected at the end of the block.

I did start to worry when he started to slow when there were no other cars on the street. “Hey, are you lost?” I asked, leaning forwards.

He said nothing, coming to a stop. I blinked and looked around, wondering if he had seen something – and I saw another man walking towards the cab. “Isn’t it against your policy to take two fares?” I asked, not as confident as I sounded. I slid towards the roadside door, finding the handle with my fingers. I was getting scared.

The man didn’t try and get in back with me, though. He got in the front, the paper crunching as he sat on it. I was confused for a second, then tried to open the door.

It wouldn’t open.

I looked at the men, the new one twisted around to watch me through the perspex. He was vaguely hansom, not in-your-face like most of the Circus-dwellers, but under the stubble and poc-marks, he had some potential. It didn’t make me want to stay any more than I had a moment ago.

I dived across the car for the other door, jerking the handle, but that wouldn’t open either. “Fuck!” I cursed. I pulled out my phone, nearly dropping into the footwell when the car lurched forwards. I had just got it open when there was a tap-tap-tap on the clear plastic. I looked – then man had a gun out and lazily pointed at me. The angle was off – if he shot, it would pass through my hip. I froze at the sight of it.

I’m not good enough with guns yet to know the type or even the make by just looking at one, but I’m sure Anita had one like this. I knew it was nasty just because she had it. “Drop the phone out of the window,” the man with the gun demanded. I just stared at him. He moved slightly, the gun centralizing – but that was an accident, as his other hand operated the real window. I moved slowly, eyes on his, as I slotted the phone through the thin gap. He almost closed it on my fingers.

“Good,” he muttered. “Now, get down on the floor and pull that blanket over you.”

“What are you going to do to me?” I asked, thinking I might like to be shot in preference to the alternative.

The gun twitched, gesturing me down. I went reluctantly, tugging the dirty green rug off from parcel rack behind the seats. “I’m not going to do anything, if you behave.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. I really didn’t like the sound of that. “Cover you’re head. All of it.” Not like I could see anything but sky from the floor, I did it anyway. The guy had a fucking gun. I realized I was being kidnapped.

Oh shit, Anita would blow a vein.


	6. Chapter 6

I don’t know how long the ride took. I didn’t have a way to keep track, and I know too well how minutes can drag. All in all, it felt like an hour – maybe two – scrunched down in the cramped space. So many turns I couldn’t keep track. I knew there had been traffic for a while – the car had come to a crawl for several minutes – but then there had been a lot of open road.

My kidnappers didn’t talk, apart from once when the gun-toter complained about the radio being dead.

I was rubbing my grazed palm, trying to distract myself from the headache that was crawling back into life, when we turned again, onto what sounded like a gravelled road. It continued for a minute or so, and then the car eased to a stop.

“All right, we are going to be calm and civil about this. I will open the door and you will get out and walk with me into the building, no fuss and no trouble.” The two front doors opened, and I straightened, pushing the blanket off me. My heart was pounding. This was so unreal. I peeked out of the windows, and saw unremarkable countryside. We were outside a farmhouse that looked a little run down, but not derelict like those in horror films.

I think, if they had opened the door in front of me, I would have bolted, but they were smarter than that. They opened the one I was facing away from, so I had to twist around to get out. I had started to shake. I tried to stop, but couldn’t. They grabbed my arms when I was getting up, and didn’t let me catch my balance, hauling me around the car quickly. I staggered, my legs now working properly after being bent up for so long. I would have fallen, but they carried most of my weight it didn’t even slow them. They didn’t even knock at the door – it opened when we were a few steps away. The person who opened it was pale, anaemic even, with fresh vampire bites oh his neck.

“Shit!” I hissed and only then had wits enough to try and brace my legs to stop our foreword movement. I didn’t want to go in there. He had the slightly distant eyes of a vampire slave, meaning a vampire had to be in there. It made no difference to the two men. The dragged me inside the farmhouse, through the hall into the kitchen. I saw a chair and a table with something in the centre – bulky and rectangle. They opened a door, showing stairs leading down and a stink of damp and rotting wood rose from it. There was a hesitation – just long enough for the gun toter to grab one of my wrists, twisting it up and back and take a firm grip on my shoulder. The cab driver let go when his partner had a more secure hold on me and backed off, keeping an eye on the slave. Without a word, the gun toter steered me down the steps, slow enough for me to find my footing but with enough pressure to make my shoulder and back ache sharply, encouraging me not to stop too long.

Once down in the cellar, he eased up the pressure. “Well done. You’re doing very good, Aquilla.” I jerked when he said my name – but shit, sure they’d know. Who kidnaps someone they don’t know the name of? “Easy… almost done - then you can have a break. All right… this way…”

As he guided me slowly across the dark room, I heard voices upstairs – the Renfield and the cab driver. “What’s he doing? He’s not being paid to talk to the brat…”

I recognised the cap driver as he replied, “Keeps them calmer. I thought you were going to wear a ski mask?”

“It’s not so important anymore.”

I didn’t understand that – a barely understood the first part, I was so scared. But the gun toter spoke calmly and clearly, which would have almost been reassuring, if he wasn’t a kidnapper. “Listen to me, Aquilla. You have to do what I say, or I’ll make you. I want you to lie in this coffin.”

My toes bumped something on the floor. It was big, and I guessed it was the coffin he wanted me to get in. “What?” I choked out, my voice sounding rough.

The pressure on my wrist was slowly increasing. “The coffin – lie in it. I think you would prefer to do it without a broken arm. Get in, Aquilla, get in the coffin.”

I was gasping as if I’d run a mile, but I did as he said, taking a high step to clear the wall of the coffin. It was padded a little inside – so it was an actual coffin. I heard another person come down the steps, but wasn’t given the time to worry about it. The gun toter put more pressure on my shoulder and I dropped to a knee. Panicked, I couldn’t stop myself asking, “You’re not going to bury me, are you?”

The man on the stairs laughed, but the one behind me replied smoothly, “No, of course not. It’s only for a few hours.”

A few hours? “…Until nightfall?” I asked, sounding even more afraid. That had to be over six hours away. Six hours in a small dark place… I didn’t have Anita’s phobia, but I may do in six hours. And then… what would be waiting for me?

“Think we should drug him?” the cab driver asked from the stairs.

The pain in my shoulder and elbow increased and the man behind me said, almost gently, “Lie down, Aquilla. You’ll get out again. Lie down.”

I did. There was nothing else I could do. They let me roll onto my back once I was in, before they put the lid on. My breathing sounded loud in the enclosed space. They put something on top of the lid – it sounded heavy, and it took the two of them to lift it.

I heard them go up the stairs, heard the door shut. Then there was nothing but my breathing. “Fuck,” I whispered. I tried pushing the lid, but it was too low and too heavy. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ ”


	7. Chapter 7

“Richard, what the hell are you thinking?” The short, furious necromancer circled the taller man as she snarled out words, made even angrier with his lack of reaction. “I share marks with you, and I still don’t know! How is this retreat going to mend anything?”

“Its not a retreat. I just cannot rationalise staying.” His voice was tired, as was his expression.

“Why am I the last person to know this? Why do you leave me in the dark! I look like an idiot, and you don’t even care!” She was in front of him again, stepping into his personal space, head tilted back to stare into his face. “You expect me to accept this so quickly?”

“No. I knew you’d react like this, like a wronged girlfriend.” Anger was stirring in his voice now, the weary look making him look older.

“And aren’t I? You’ve wronged me by even contemplating this… this… withdrawal –”

“No, Anita. No. You are not my girlfriend. I asked you to marry me-”

“Fifteen years ago!”

“- and you said no. I asked you to have a paternity test done on your child, and you said no. This is my time, and my choice. No, Anita. You can’t stop me.”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Her face was shocked and hurt. Richard turned and started towards the iron-bound door. When his hand touched the handle, she found her voice. “Don’t leave me!”

He didn’t even slow.

Heavy, hot tears shot down her cheeks, and her knees buckled. Alone, in the majestic Entrance Hall of the Circus, Anita wept.

~~~~

Nathaniel felt the great wash of anguish, frustration and regret flood his mind through his Marks. He gasped, the air hissing through gritted teeth, and he gripped the wall for support. He didn’t let go of the phone held to his ear.

“-not seen him for a week. Sorry, Mr. Nate.”

After a moment of struggling, he suppressed the tears welling in his eyes. “Ah… that’s all right, Morgan. Do you know who he could have been with?”

“Ummmm… Sasha wasn’t in today. You could try him?”

“Thank-you. I think I have his number. It ends in seven-two-five, right?”

“Uhh, yeah. That’s him! Have a good week-end, sir.”

Nathaniel hung up, too worried to say good-bye, and stabbed in another number. It rang for some time, and when he thought it would ring out, there was a click as the call was accepted.

“You better be willing to pay for some nice take-outs, or you can forget it.”

“…what?” Nathaniel asked in confusion.

“Oh. Oh! Isn’t this the Circus of the Damned?”

“Yes it is. Sasha? I’m looking for ‘Quill. You saw him today?”

“Yeah, man. We hung out. Why, what’s up?”

“He was meant to come back here at about one, only… he didn’t.”

There was the sound of movement on the other side of the phone, and Sasha said, “Well, that’s the time he baled on me. Someone called him.”

“That was me. Where were you?”

“The park, close to the mall… Hey, is he really missing? You try calling him?”

Nathaniel let out an annoyed breath, and said shortly, “Yes. He’s not answering. Can you think or anywhere he could have gone?”

“Well, uh… there’s the house. I know its all burn, but he might of. There’s some other hang outs. I’ll call around.”

“Right. Call, if you find anything. Or anyone how has seen him after one. Tell the desk it’s about ‘Quill, they’ll put you though to someone else.”

He hung up again, and ran out of the kitchen. Where else could he be? Waiting in the car park for Richard. He could be back. He could be anywhere. The wereleopard ran through the corridors and into the Entrance Hall. His attention was drawn to Anita kneeling on the carpet, rocking back and forth. He slowed, then stopped. He looked from Anita to the door, then started to move towards her. “Anita?” he said softly.

A sob escaped her, despite the hand over her mouth. She shook her head, dark curls bobbing. He wanted to comfort her, but he needed to get into the car park before Richard left. He may already be too late. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered, then sprinted out of the iron-bound door and up the stairs. There was a second wave of despair from Anita’s bond, but he couldn’t stop.

His thighs were burning when he burst out into the parking lot, and he looked around, desperately. Richard’s car wasn’t in the parking lot. There was no sign of ‘Quill either.

He turned and descended into the belly of the Circus again, stunned. He had been so sure ‘Quill would have been up there, waiting for Richard without Anita’s intervention. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t anywhere.

The time it took to get down the stairs felt like less time than the race up them had taken, even though he was walking. He pushed open the heavy door, and saw again Anita on the ground, clutching Jean-Claude. The vampire looked up at him, expressionless.

Nathaniel moved closer, and the dark-haired vampire frowned slightly. “I… I can’t get hold of ‘Quill. No one’s seen him for two hours.”

Jean-Claude’s eyes widened, and Anita pulled her face from his shirt-front. “W-what?”

“He went out with his friend this morning. I talked to him at one. He left the park to come back. No one’s seen him since and he isn’t picking up his phone.”

Jean-Clade’s expression became a little distant, obviously going through a mental list of enemies, but Anita came to her conclusion with speed and precision. “It’s Richard. He has ‘Quill. Oh, God!”

The two men looked at her in confusion. “Anita, Richard was here two hours ago. He couldn’t have ‘Quill.”

“It’s him! He’s taking my son!”

“Wait, Ma Petite. I will see what out Richard has to say.”

“No! He’ll know we know-”

“Your logic is not as it should be. Even if he does have _Mon Crécerelle,_ he will be safe.” Jean-Claude did not wait for her permission, and his eyes became distant again. Moments later he blinked. “Non. He has not seen ‘Quill today.”

“But… but it fits!”

“So does kidnap,” the vampire told her.

Her pale face became almost colourless. “Kidnap…”

“We must alert the police, I think.” His midnight-blue eyes were on Nathaniel’s lavender ones. Nathaniel nodded, and went back to the phone. He glanced over his shoulder to see Jean-Claude hold Anita closer.


	8. Chapter 8

I saw things in the dark - things that could not be real, things that had no right to exist. They rolled and glided in the space before my eyes, phantoms made by my mind desperate for something to look at. My breath was loud, desperate and erratic. For the first few hours I sometimes thought the breathing was not my own, that some one, some thing was panting and grunting by my head and panic would crawl through my mind, making me too afraid to scream. It’s strange how I could not recognise it as my own. Sweat chilled my skin, making me even colder than I had been when I wandered through the Circus only last night. The constant pain scrabbling at the inside of my skull made it all worse.

Desperate to know there was something there, I struggled to work my arms from my sides, to touch the wood in front of my face. The lid was different than the rest of the coffin. It was not lined in the cushioned fake silk that coated the rest of the coffin’s insides. I could feel the ridges of glue, and a few scraps of silky smoothness. The materiel had been torn away… but by whom? Had there been someone else in this thing before me? Would I find a nail lodged in the wood if I kept touching it? Bile rose in my throat as my imagination ran wild, sewing together every horror movie I had seen into one patchwork nightmare. It was almost enough to make me pull my hands away. No, no, I had to keep touching. I had to know what was real and what wasn’t.

The lid had slanted sides, making the middle higher than the walls. My fingers found circular ridges, rough and placed at regular intervals, all over the slanted sides. Air holes? They felt so small. How could they be big enough to let enough air in? I was going to suffocate in this tiny box, so far from home.

They wouldn’t even miss me yet.

They wouldn’t know.

I panicked, and tried to kick and hit the lid – but there wasn’t enough room to get enough momentum to do anything but skin my knuckles. I screamed and screamed and screamed my fear and frustration until my throat burnt and I could taste blood faintly. My tears were hot on my temples as they ran back, into my hair.

I was so weak... so fucking weak. Anita would never let herself get put in a box. She wouldn’t have just gone with the bad guys without fighting. What was wrong with me? I knew what was wrong – I’m human, plain, simple and weak. What good was that?

Time moved strangely, and my thoughts ran in great wandering circles, growing more bitter and dark. I fell into a sleep that wasn’t sleep. I still knew I was in the coffin, I still knew I was well and truly fucked. Each moment was eternal, but still they slid past me. Nothing was real but my breathing, the rough circles, the pain in my throat and head and the growing weight in my bladder. I really, really didn’t want to think about that last one.

Later – and sooner – than I thought, I heard something other that the frantic intake of my breath. A sort of sleepy purr, or groan. It came from above. I snatched my hands back from the bare wood, eyes so wide they hurt, but I was still blind in the darkness. I had stopped breathing, listening hard. The coffin shook a little, then there was a soft thump to my left, my head turning to look even though I was inside a box.

There was a loud scraping bang, and the lid opened. I sat up fast, pushing myself to my feet so fast a wave of light-headed dizziness swept over me. It was as dark out of the box as it was inside, and I was suddenly afraid I had gone blind. The voice spooked me further. “I was starting to think they’d never get a hold of you, boy.” The male vampire spoke with a Southern drawl, deep and smooth. It wouldn’t have scared me if I hadn’t been locked in a coffin for so long.

A hand caught my forearm and tugged me sharply. I stumbled as my foot caught the wall of the coffin and half-fell against the cool firm body of the vampire. He laughed and said, “I wouldn’t have figured you for a bum boy-”

“Get off me!” I snarled, my voice rough and my throat feeling like I had swallowed a cheese grater. I ignored it, and shoved him hard. He took a step back to steady himself, but he was still laughing, and still had hold of my arm. I started to struggle, and his grip tightened. I grunted in pain, but kept fighting, despite feeling like a rabbit in a snare.

The vampire gave me a shake that made my teeth click shut, and he hissed, “You behave, or I’ll box you up again until you learn some good manners, you hear me?”

I stilled. I didn’t want to go back in that coffin. I didn’t say anything, but he took my silence – or my freezing – as compliance. He grunted, then said, “See now, not so hard. Come on, we don’t want the party upstairs to start without the guest of honour.” There was mocking in his tone, and eagerness. I shivered hard, suddenly scared to leave the lightless basement. But then, it wasn’t like I had much of a choice.

He half-dragged, half-shoved me to the stairs, then pushed me up them first. Halfway up, the door opened. The light was such a shock after hours of darkness it hurt, and I flinched back only to be shoved again. I pressed my eyes closed, then made myself open them. I had to see who I was being pushed towards. It hurt and made my migraine work even deeper into my scull, but I made out a silhouette, and a few steps closer, the shadow-figure became a guy. A man, who looked too pale and too thin. I recognised him – the Renfield.

He stepped back as I scrambled up the steps, and the vampire behind me told him, “Set up the equipment, we’ll be there in a minute.” He nodded, and went to the table, where a few boxes rested. As I reached the head of the stairs, I felt a hand go around my neck. “We go forward, through the door.” He pulled me in the opposite direction to the slave, and forced me through a hallway. I recognised it, through squinting eyes. At the end was the door out, but we turned through a door I hadn’t noticed on the way in.

The vamp clicked a light switch, and the stark light showed me a grimy little room with a toilet and sink. There were a few spiders cowering in the corners. I didn’t care about them – I was far more interested in the toilet.

The vampire trusted that if I couldn’t escape a coffin, I couldn’t escape a windowless restroom, and let me use it with the illusion of privacy, pulling the door to behind me.

After I was done, he escorted me back, hand on my neck again, to the kitchen. The Renfield was setting up a tripod for a camera in front of the table, directly in line with the single chair. The chair I was pushed towards by the vampire. “Sit down.” I didn’t want to, but they didn’t seem to care what I wanted.

I sat, realising as I did so this was probably going to be the ransom note, or part of it. My sore eyes looked over the boxes on the table. Some looked like food, others I wasn't so sure of. The vampire picked them up and put them on the floor a few feet away. The slave had gotten a video camera from one of the smaller boxes, and was attaching it to the tripod, turning it on and looking at the display, altering the angle a little and zooming in and out a few times.

The Vampire was looking through some papers, and I looked around again, noticing one thing had been left on the table. Looking closer, it was screwed down, keeping it fixed firmly on the tabletop. I had never seen anything like it. It was a rectangle of wood, with three leather straps coming up from one side, and what looked like a doorknob on the other. From under the doorknob there was what looked like a nail file, pointed towards the leather straps.

It didn’t look friendly, whatever it was.

A page was slid in front of me. There was bold text, obviously a print from a computer. I looked up at the vampire as he loomed over me. “Read that for the camera, out loud, and you’ll get a meal. If you don’t… well.” He grinned, showing his fangs. Oh, great.

“Now?” My voice rasped.

“No. Almost ready, though.” He bent and opened one of the boxes, pulling out a bottle of mountain spring water. He opened it and handed it to me, and I drank. I always hated those bottles of water, but it tasted pretty good at that moment.

As I gulped the stuff down despite the ache of my throat, he got hold of my free wrist, and pushed it down onto the block of wood. I tried to pull away, but he wanted my hand there, and I wasn’t anywhere near strong enough to get free. I put the bottle down, and asked, “What are you doing?”

I could see what he was doing – he was strapping my wrist down tight, first at mid-forearm, then wrist then my little finger, positioning it so the pointed tip of the nail file was under the white of my pinkie’s finger nail. When the vampire let go, I reached with my other hand, trying to undo the straps, but he caught my hand. “No,” he said, “Leave it, or I’ll tie this hand down, too.”

I looked at him, glancing at his eyes. They were blue. I looked down, and muttered, “Okay, okay.” He let go, and I picked up my water, taking sips.

He tapped the page. “Word for word. Nothing more, nothing less. You ready for your close-up?”

I resisted snorting, taking another sip of water. “The sooner I do it, the sooner they pay up, right?”

The vampire grinned. “Something like that,” was all he said, before going behind the camera. I looked at the camera, and saw a red LED blink on. I looked down, and began to read aloud my script…


	9. Chapter 9

The female police officer was seated at the Pomme's coffee table, a pad of paper before her and a pen in hand. Her brown eyes followed the vampire before her as he paced. She licked her dry lips, and started, "Do you have any idea who could have kidnapped your... um-"

" _Non_." Asher interrupted harshly. He stopped his furious strides and snarled, "No one on this continent would dare touch Aquilla. Or that is what we thought."

The officer sighed and wrote a note. "Not on this continent? Would you mind elaborating?"

" _Oui_."

The woman looked up, her eyes meeting the vampire's icy blue gaze for a second, before she looked away. "Ah... sir... the more information we have, the easier it is for us to help you."

Asher's lip rose from his teeth and he started to pace again. "They would not challenge Jean-Claude in such a manner. Not after we-" He stopped mid sentence, his attention suddenly diverted from his circling, golden haired head turning to the door.

The officer tried to get a word in, saying, "Sir, who are-"

But the vampire didn't wait to hear her question. He was already moving again, going to the door and pulling it open. The corridor was busy with police and Circus workers, moving to give what statements they could. Gretchen stood squarely in front of the door Asher had opened. Hands behind her back and eyes wide, trying to look as innocent as a nun. After Jean-Claude's demand for best behaviour, it wasn't a surprise.

"Yes?" Asher snapped shortly.

"Asher, I'm looking for The Ma... for Jean-Claude. This was found in the Arcade after we closed the Circus this evening." Her hands came from behind her, and Asher saw that the younger vampire held a blue backpack.

"We have a lost-and-found, Gretchen," Asher said slowly, his tone dark. "It is not something to concern Jean-Claude with."

"I know... but when it was opened, there was a scent... of blood."

Asher frowned, taking the bag from her offering hand. He lifted it to his face and smelt it too. Blood, human... it was too faint to tell more from it.

Asher's pale eyes met Gretchen's for a moment before he opened the top, and reached inside. The officer moved up behind him, and said, "Sir, we haven't finished with your statement... "

He pulled out a small dusty blue box that looked like it would hold jewellery. He stared at the little box, as if he could see through to what was inside. A moment later he lifted the lid a little, air hissing between his fanged teeth. He closed the box, not offering a look to either of the women, and said, "We will continue our discussion later, Madam. I must take this to Jean-Claude."

The officer made a few objections, but Asher didn't wait to listen, hurrying down the corridor.

He strode out of the corridor, into the circus ring, then up the steps to the highest level before going into the small antechamber then into the larger room behind that. As he walked in, three heads were turned to him. Jean-Claude, Nathaniel and Anita. The three investigators interviewing them turned a moment later, their voices trailing off.

Their looks of horror told him before he noticed - his hair had swept back as he walked. He hesitated for half a second, then moved forwards again, shaking his head a little to make a golden curtain fall across his damaged features. "Jean-Claude," Asher said as he held out the box.

The Master of the City came forwards, and took it, his expression a blank mask. Anita stood, her eyes on the box. She started to shake her head. "Not again. Not again," she whispered. Nathaniel went to her, touching her shoulder.

Jean-Claude opened the box, going as un-naturally still as only the dead can, staring down at the object sitting on a cushion of pale cream foam. After a long, tense moment, he spoke softly, "Was there... anything else?"

"What... oh God, what is it?" Anita broke away from Nathaniel moving up to her Master to look. Neither vampire stopped her when she reached out and took the box from Jean-Claude. "Oh God..." she whispered when she saw. "That's... That's his nail. The sick bastards sent us his nail!"

"Aw, shit!" swore one of the investigators.

Asher handed Jean-Claude the backpack. "This bag was found in the Arcade. Someone left it when we closed early. Gretchen brought it to me when she couldn't find you."

"Gretchen? She's trying to help? She's just using my son's kidnap as a... a way to wriggle her way back into your bed!" Anita glared at Jean-Claude as if accusing him of the deed.

"Probably," he agreed softly. "Whatever her reason, she brought this to us, and I am grateful." He opened the bad, peering in. He glanced at Asher before he pulled out a CD case. He handed the bag back to Asher and turned, walking to the wall opposite to the bed. He pushed a curtain to a side and pressed a small button. Two wooden panels slid open, revealing an entertainment centre. He opened the CD player and took out the disk in the tray before opening the blank case and putting it in the machine. He pressed ‘play' and waited.

"There is nothing," he said after a moment, his tone unreadable.

It was Nathaniel who cleared his throat, and said, nervously, "It might be a DVD." Everyone turned to him, and he dropped his gaze for a second before he pulled it back up to meet Jean-Claude's midnight blue eyes. He shrugged one shoulder and murmured, "...There's a player built into the TV you had installed up here."

"Of course..." He ejected the disk and went to another part of the wall which slid open as smoothly as the first section had. A large TV was revealed, along with a DVD player. The Master Vampire quickly had the disk in and the television on, taking a few steps back as the screen came to life.

‘Quill was sat at a rough looking table, his hand on a small block before him, his other hand holding water. There were no windows behind him, and the walls were a dirty grey-brown. ‘Quill looked shaken, but otherwise unharmed. In the corner, the time and date were clear. It had been two hours and twelve minutes ago.

His eyes darted from the lens to a point behind the camera. "Uh, yeah," he muttered, unsure. He looked down, sipped from the clear bottle in his hand before reading aloud from the page on the table.

"The time, it ticks,  
The hours slide by,  
When the third day ends,  
This kestrel shall die.

His voice had wobbled, and he looked up to the person behind the camera. "You're kindda stupid, you know. And it's a sucky poem. Riddle. Whatever. You shouldn't have quit your night job." His fear-fed attack ended a second later. His eyes widened, and he paled, then shuddered. The silent audience could only guess at what the abductor had done.

Whatever it was had subdued ‘Quill's resistance, and he looked down at the page again, fear building in his tone.

"The cost of one,  
The end of four,  
Bring these to ruin,  
And he'll live, for sure."

‘Quill's lip twisted in obvious disgust, his dark eyes flicking up from the page to the camera, before continuing.

"The half-scarred man,  
The Lady of sin,  
The Blood of the Dragon,  
And the Brothers Grimm."

He snorted and scowled at the camera, lifting the water to his mouth. He muttered, "That adds up to five, fuck-moot." He'd finished speaking when he jumped and hesitated, scowl vanishing into fearful surprise, the water bottle returned to the table. The sound of footsteps were heard a moment before the waist of the kidnapper appeared in the side of the frame. Aquilla was leaning away, but seemed unable to get his hand off the table. The abductor's hand reached forwards, one finger extended to stroke the underside of the boy's jaw. ‘Quill jerked as if the touch hurt, and then he was screaming, head snapped to stare at his hand that was secured to the table. The vampire's clenched fist - the hand that had been touching his chin - had slammed down, faster than the camera could track, onto the strange looking handle of the device ‘Quill was strapped to. His free hand scrabbled at the buckles around his wrist, his chair topping as he stood. The man had vanished, and a split-second later, the recording ended.

"Oh my god," whispered Nathaniel.

"He... he touched him. He hurt him. What's he going to do to my son?" Anita looked from Jean-Claude to Asher, then to the investigators. "Fuck, he's only fourteen! We have to find him. Now."


End file.
